Fic : The Five Husbands of Gabriel Gray Part 2/2
Rating : NC17
Pairing : Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Luke, Sylar/Nathan, Sylar/Peter, Sylar/Matt
Word count : 10,323
Notes : For
heroes_bigboom
Summary : Kelly Noble has the power to create multiple universes, but when Sylar takes it it forces a catastrophic chain of events. His future self must now force him to choose one of the five universes he has unwittingly set into motion. Five worlds, five husbands, but which will he choose?
Previous
Husband #4 - Peter Petrelli
The new door was peeling, blue flecks of old paint still fluttering from it as he turned the key. Music was playing inside and Sylar somehow knew who it would be. Fate was just that deliciously twisted.
"Hey!" Peter yelled from the desk where he had his laptop open. "Did you eat?"
"No, did you?" Sylar glanced around the apartment. It was schizophrenic to say the least. You could tell which enclaves were Peter's and which were his. Just like at Luke's place there were stacks rather than shelves, and bits of paper, photos and momentos stuck to every flat surface like a living scrapbook.
"No, I forgot, you wanna get takeout?"
Sylar rolled his eyes, unseen. He just wanted to take hold of this annoying little bastard's skinny hips and fuck him until he screamed. Why did there have to be eating? How in God's name did he end up married to this idiot?
Warm, sure hands circled his waist and he relaxed somewhat as Peter's attention came to him. "Hey, I'm sorry. Why don't you go have a lie down and I'll cook, okay?"
A lie down did sound good. Sylar turned and pulled Peter by the hand, hoping he could find the bedroom. "Come with me, come help me relax." He dragged him off, luckily finding the bedroom door wide open with one half of the room neat and pristine and one littered with the remnants of a weekend away. He flopped down on the bed and sighed as Peter pulled off his shoes for him and lay on his side, watching him intently. As Sylar closed his eyes Peter languidly stroked his hair with one hand and rested the other on his chest. He pecked him on the cheek and whispered his love, his eyelashes leaving little butterfly kisses in their wake.
Sylar breathed deeply. The attention was certainly gratifying. Peter was touching his face ever so gently, occasionally dropping a kiss and sighing contentedly. "You feel tense Gabriel, you want a massage?"
Wordlessly Sylar sat up, pulling off his shirt and lying on his stomach. Gabriel. Of course Peter could never fuck Sylar, but a name change was all it took for him to open up. He moaned at firm, professional fingers on his aching muscles. He had never had a massage in his life, but he imagined this would be a pretty top notch one. Peter was a nurse after all, he knew physiology. He was responsive to Sylar's shifts and moans, kneading and unknotting until Sylar thought he might unravel completely.
He felt a little ashamed to be so turned on by this, after all it was what Peter did to old people. But every time those firm thumbs pressed into a hitherto untouched part of his aching flesh he felt a little sinful moan escape and heat grow across his groin.
"I want you to know I don't touch my patients like this. This is all for you." Peter lay flat over him, kissing his neck gently. "I missed you while I was away. I missed you so much."
Sylar hummed, letting his eyes flutter open momentarily. Peter was such a slob. His dirty clothes from his trip were still all over the bed. He reached out to knock the crumpled polo shirt from the bed and jolted as a quick-fire slide show rattled through his brain. Peter, on all fours, being fucked roughly. Peter on his knees, panting and begging. Peter bent over a dresser screaming and moaning in a way Sylar had never heard before. He was yelping, almost sobbing and shouting...."Nathan."
Peter stopped abruptly. "What?"
Sylar heaved himself up and turned over, rage burning in his eyes. "Nathan! You fucked him!"
"No! What are you talking about, I never fucked him." Peter was a terrible liar. His face immediately began to colour and he started to pull at his shirt hem. Sylar shivered with every untruth that passed the man's lips.
"Why would you lie to me when you know..." Wait. "You know I can tell, right? You know you can't lie to me."
Peter's bottom lip began to quiver. "I promised you I wouldn't and I...I didn't. Martha's Vineyard was the last time, I swear."
"Stop LYING!" Sylar grabbed the polo shirt and gripped it, letting the memories flow through him. "He fucked you over a dresser at the lake house. He bruised your hips on it. Let me see. If there's no bruises I'm crazy right?"
Peter swallowed, frozen to the spot. "I..."
Sylar stalked over to him, roughly grabbing his pants and pulled them down as Peter struggled ineffectually. There, on his skinny hip bones, were two lilac bruises. Sylar took his hands from Peter and backed away. He felt an unexpected disappointment, and remembered his sham marriage to Nathan. He wasn't good enough. Again. He sat on their bed and dropped the shirt like it might bite him. "Am I a bad husband?" he muttered.
"No. You're good to me. You give me everything I need, this is my fault. I'm the one who's to blame."
At least this makes the decision easier. Sylar thought. He could count Peter and Nathan out of his equation. They were welcome to each other. "You two...You're poison. You can't be together because you know how wrong it is but instead of just accepting it you drag other people into your mess. You ruin my life, just because you don't have any self-control."
"I know that! I know it!" Peter was yelling now, hot tears running down his cheeks. "It's not like you're perfect, I mean you could have laid down the law when you found out the first time but no, you have to be all forgiving and saintly because you're Gabriel now! You're not Sylar!"
"You want Sylar?" Sylar stood and pinned Peter to the wall with a flick of his fingers. "I'll give you Sylar you weak little bastard." He spun Peter, holding him against the wall and ripping at his jeans. "Is this what you want? Pain? Humiliation? You let him do things to you that you make me feel ashamed of wanting." He pressed his erection against Peter's ass and felt his own tears run down his cheeks. He was about to kick Peter's legs apart when he caught his reflection in their bedroom mirror. Peter was afraid, and in pain, and he was causing it. And it felt so good that he knew he had to stop, or kill him.
Flinging Peter to the floor, Sylar wiped his eyes and marched out of the bedroom. "Pack your things and get out," he spat, as the white light enveloped him.
Husband #5 - Matt Parkman
Picket fence. Dear God, these actually existed.
Sylar glanced over the house in front of him and saw that the door was open. Where did he live? Mayberry? He sighed, jogging up the steps and bracing himself.
The scent of cinnamon hit him as he crossed the threshold. The place was like a show house and Sylar felt immediately uncomfortable. In what kind of universe had he selected those drapes? "Hello?" he called.
"Oh you're back." Parkman's voice rattled out of a nearby doorway. "Took your time, we open in an hour and you know people will pay not attention to the ad and show up in like, five minutes." He walked into the reception room holding a dustbuster. "Are you changing?"
Sylar looked down at his jeans and sweatshirt. "What for?"
"What for? Because if we're ever gonna sell this place we need to come across as the perfectly groomed gay couple who took care of their house and didn't dress like they just came from a bar. I laid out some stuff for you in the bedroom, go on."
Parkman turned away from him as if there would be no further discussion and Sylar felt more like a family dog or a child than his husband. "Wait a minute, I..."
"I don't have time for your bullshit, okay? Can you please just do as I ask once in your damn life? I want out of this place, and you're not gonna ruin it for me, now go get dressed!" Parkman marched into the kitchen and the irritating buzz of the dustbuster started up. Sylar clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. He would put up with this until the universe decided he could get the hell out.
In their bedroom there were clothes laid out, just as Parkman said. Beige slacks, a blue shirt and a white sweater. Sylar looked around at the photos on the wall and saw that, yes his worst nightmare had come true and he was dressing like a J-Crew catalogue. In none of the photos was he smiling. The look on his face was one of resignation.
"Hey..." Parkman appeared in the doorway looking shamefaced before creeping towards him and taking him in a hug. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just..."
Sylar let his hand stroke up Parkman's back and held him loosely. "I know."
Rubbing their stubbled cheeks together, Parkman sighed. "It'll all be so good once we move. They say it's one of the most stressful things you can do, right? Amen to that."
Forcing a smile, Sylar looked Parkman in the eyes. "I know I can be...difficult sometimes. I know you must get tempted to just use your ability and force me, and I'm grateful that you don't."
"What?" Parkman looked genuinely shocked. "Sweetie I would never...You don't have to be grateful that I don't use my ability on you. I would never do that."
The tingle came and Sylar' lip involuntarily wobbled. He was so sick of being lied to and used and not good enough. Not good enough for Parkman to have his own free will. Not good enough to be himself. "Sure, I know. I'm gonna get changed." He extricated himself and felt Parkman tap him on the backside before he left and started up the dustbuster again.
Sylar opened the bedside drawer and confirmed his own suspicions. Viagra, Jesus. He didn't know how he knew, it may have been residual memory from the other universe, but with Mohinder that made two people he couldn't get it up for. He picked up the packet of blue pills and saw that there were none missing. Maybe Parkman didn't even wanna try. Maybe they were Parkman’s and not his.
"You can throw them away again but you know you'll be digging through the trash later."
Sylar jumped as Parkman approached him. He hadn't even realised the dustbuster had stopped. "I er...I was just..thinking."
Parkman squeezed his shoulder. "Hey...one day you won't need it. I know it. We just need to...work on things."
Sylar stomach flipped. "I won't need it?"
"Sure, one day you'll...get over it." Parkman petted his hair like he was a particularly dumb pet and wandered off again. "We have about twenty minutes before they start showing up." He called back.
Shit. So he was the one who was dead from the waist down. Not that he was shocked, he couldn't find himself attracted to Parkman. Why the hell was he in this nightmare? He threw the pills back into the drawer and slammed it shut. Sitting heavily on the bed he touched the clothing that Parkman had laid out and let the memories flood through him. After a minute or so he stopped, and collapsed into sobs. It was all there, the abuse and the wearing down. The threats and mindfucks. They were buried beneath a layer of picnics on the beach and drives up to Rhode Island to watch the leaves turn. Matt had been fucking with his mind, replacing what he didn't want seen with Hallmark memories and a healthy dose of self-loathing.
Sylar dried his eyes and set his jaw. "I'm ready. Get me out of here, I'm ready to choose."
Epilogue
Sylar looked into his own eyes as his future self appeared.
"Times up anyway, lover boy. Decision time."
Mohinder, he thought. He wanted Mohinder, wanted to go back and fight for him, prove that they could work. The words just weren't coming out of his mouth. Nathan didn't love him, Peter was conflicted and cheating on him. Matt was the suburban nightmare that Sylar had lived in for much too long as a young man, and Luke and the baby? Luke and the baby seemed the most unreal of all of the scenarios. Luke had been happy. With him! The baby was normal, they were a normal family. How could that be real? How could it be true?
"I know what you're thinking." Future Sylar said. "I will always know what you're thinking. You have to say it to me. You have to choose."
"How can I choose? I choose none of them, I choose to be alone." When his other self didn't speak he felt the silence weigh heavily on his ears and had to fill it. "I can't be a father and a husband, I can't be that selfless, I can't keep my promises.I can't be good!"
"Not a good boy - not exactly. Something else, something more, like... Like you. Home, family, but not afraid to do the job I have to do." His future self repeated his own words back to him, the words he had spoken to Noah Bennet after he had lost his powers.
"Well maybe I can't have what I want!" Sylar screamed. "Maybe I don’t deserve what I...." He stopped himself, as a memory came to him that wasn't a memory. The whiteness faded and he found himself in the living room he shared with Luke. He was alone, and he felt it desperately. Around him the apartment was quiet. There were still toys scattered around but they were not baby toys, they were children's toys. He jumped as the door opened and Luke came through it, leading a small boy of about five by the hand.
"Hi Daddy!" The little one ran to him, leaping up onto his knee and squeezing him.
"Hey..." Sylar looked at Luke, who looked away. "Jamie, go and play in your room for a minute okay? I need to talk to Daddy."
The boy jumped down obediently and jogged off as Luke looked round at them. "Not the paints though Jamie, okay? Clean toys." He sat by Sylar and raised his eyebrows. "So, what's up?"
"Good day?" Sylar sat back and threw his arm over the back of the couch.
"Yeah, fine. Same as always." Luke swallowed and sat back too, still not looking at him.
He was lying, Sylar knew. But he didn't know. There was no shiver. He just felt it in other ways. "Are you telling me the truth?"
The pause was all he needed. He pulled Luke to him, kissing his cheek. "You can tell me, I'm your husband. I'm his father."
Luke's shoulders dropped. "He manifested. After everything, he still...He's like we were. What if he ends up like us? Do you remember the old us?"
Sylar let his head rest on Luke's shoulder. "Can we do anything?"
Luke shook his head. "He can have the same drugs as us but what happens if he finds out? What if he finds out and wants his ability? What happens after we're both dead?"
"Dead?" The realisation hit Sylar like a freight train. Out of Luke's sight he twitched his finger towards one of Jamie's toy cars, left on the floor. Nothing. He tried for a bolt of electricity. Gone.
"One day we won't be able to force him, and he's a kid, imagine saying to a kid 'Oh hey, you have super powers, just have these painful injections every three months and you'll never be able to use them'."
Sylar laughed a little despite himself and relaxed when Luke started to giggle too. Soon they were doubled over with tears in their eyes.
Luke gasped for air as he sat back on the couch. "This isn't funny. It's not."
"I know. I know, I just...Do you not think that we can handle this? I think maybe only we can."
Nodding, Luke curled into him. "You're probably right. And it's not like he can microwave people or take people's abilities, it's just invisibility."
"Then we just have to make sure we know where he is when we start doing it, no problem."
Luke smiled and sighed. "No problem."
Sylar blinked and the scene was gone. "I gave up my abilities for them. I gave up immortality."
His future self nodded. "So make your decision. Choose which life you want to lead."
The decision was simple. Since Chandra Suresh had walked into his shop and told him that he could be special, that he could have abilities and powers which would set him apart, he had craved it. The only other thing he had craved as much had been Chandra's son.
"I choose Luke." He heard himself say. "I choose to stop being selfish. They need me. That family isn't complete without me, I don't know what will happen to Luke, or that child if I'm not with them. I choose them."
As he uttered the words he found himself staring at Kelly Noble. She was slight, she looked like she needed a good dose of sunshine, and she was shaking like a leaf. He lowered his hand, and walked out of the house without a backward glance. When he got a block down the street he tutted at himself for not grabbing a yellow pages before he left the house. He needed to find a way to get some money and get to New Jersey without powers and he couldn't for the life of him make his brain think that that was an option. At least he was only in New York, it could be worse. He looked around him and spied a bus station. Digging in his pockets he turned up nothing. He had a feeling that this was going to prove impossible. Just then he saw a billboard he recognised for some reason, it was shabby and a patchwork of different old ads that had been torn in layers. "Mohinder."
Running towards the billboard he started to get his bearings, he was close to Isaac's loft, and that meant that he was close to Suresh. It took him twenty minutes but to his relief he was right. He ran up the stairs to the loft and stopped right outside the door. Mohinder would probably attack him, and that meant healing, but that was pretty involuntary. He wouldn't fight back, that would be his concession. He knocked firmly and moved away from the spyhole in case Mohinder saw him. As the door opened gingerly he used all his strength to hold it open while he stepped inside. Sure enough he felt a tremendous force knock him through the air and shielded his face as he smashed into a wall.
"Mohinder stop! Please, I'm not here to hurt you." He looked up and saw Mohinder hesitate as he stood over him. "Please believe me, I just need your help, and then I will never bother you again."
"My help?! You are unbelievable! I killed you once and I can do it again." He faltered as soon as the words left his lips and he saw Sylar was still cowering, not fighting back. He studied him suspiciously. "Do you have your powers?"
"I do, but I'm not using them, I won't use them. That's why I need help."
"Why won't you? Why should I believe a word you say?"
Sylar sighed. "I don't know, but please, I only need enough money to get me to New Jersey. That's it."
"Money?" Mohinder spat. "You want money? You're a cold blooded psychopath, why do you need money?"
"I'm not using my abilities and I need to get to New Jersey to help someone. Please! I know this sounds strange." Sylar shook his head. He must have been crazy thinking that this would work.
After staring at him for a long time, Mohinder backed away, and reached into his back pocket. He flung a black leather wallet at Sylar's feet. "You can take what's in there. And then get out of here with your hands where I can see them."
Sylar pulled out the money, which looked like a few hundred dollars. He was about to say he didn't need it all but thought that on reflection he should probably take it. The last thing he needed to be doing was begging from more of his previous victims. They weren't all as nuts as Mohinder. "Thank you." He left the wallet, stuffed the money in his back pocket and held his hands in the air. Walking backwards he finally made it out of the apartment, and ran in the direction of the bus station before Mohinder changed his mind.
***
Stepping off the bus, Sylar felt a little embarrassed. He had had no idea that the journey was only thirteen miles. He probably could have walked it. That was what abilities did, he told himself, they separated you from reality. Why walk for thirteen miles when you can steal a car and kill the owner, or turn a rock into gold and pawn it to pay for a private plane? Why not just fly without the plane? He wasn't far from Luke's house, but he still had no idea what he could say to him. I've seen the future and we get married? What kind of idiotic thing was that to say? He still hadn't thought of anything when he saw his Dad's old place and a few doors down from it, Luke's.
It was growing dark and the lights were on in the living room. A patch of very dead grass on the lawn told him that Luke had been here recently, if he wasn't still around. Walking purposely towards the house, Sylar started to shake. His husband. He hadn't even started to think how he felt about Luke. Maybe the weird mix of protectiveness and irritation with a slight hint of pride would turn into love after a few years together. He knocked on the door and listened. A few footsteps, a pause, and then the door swung open.
Luke's face was a picture. For possibly the first time in his life, he was speechless. He started to try and speak a few times but was frozen to the spot.
"Can I come in?"
When the boy stepped back to let him enter, Sylar felt it was out of instinct, not choice. His brain was so busy dealing with Sylar's presence that he couldn't make other thoughts stick in his head. He edged in and shut the door behind him, looking into Luke's eyes. "Is your mother home?"
The boy shook his head, and then, Sylar thought he saw a flash of something in his eyes. Was this the 'is he here to kill me?' thought that so many people had when they saw him? "Good, I only want to talk. I'm not here to hurt you."
Anger spread across Luke's face and he stretched out his hand, burning Sylar where he stood. Sylar screamed, the pain unbearable as his skin bubbled and smoked. Darkness came to him and the smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils before he passed out.
***
Blinking awake, Sylar tensed to fend off another attack but none came. He painfully craned his neck, and saw Luke sitting in an armchair, sobbing. As he struggled to stand, his clothes fell off his body and he stood naked. He paused, watching for Luke's reaction. He just sat staring until Sylar lost patience and gave him an imploring look. "Well, do you have a robe or something?"
Luke made a noise that was half laugh half sniffle and he jumped to his feet, heading for the stairs. After he had jogged up a few he turned and beckoned Sylar after him. Luke's room was so him that Sylar probably could have drawn it before he got there. The curtains were closed, probably permanently, and the place was littered with clothes, shoes, books and various crap. Luke shut the door behind Sylar and handed him a dark blue towelling robe after letting his eyes run over his body. Sylar smiled. "You know, that's a very effective way to get someone naked, but they may not want to sleep with you afterwards."
"What do you want?" Luke murmured as he sat on his unmade bed. Sylar joined him, keeping a little distance between them.
"I was about to ask you the same question. I'm back. What do you want me to do?"
"You're back? It's been almost a year!" Luke spat. "You leave me alone and then after ten months and two weeks you come back and..." Luke faltered and realised what he'd just said. "I wasn't counting, I just...I just know."
"I'm sorry I left you, but I didn't want to bring you into my fight with my father."
Luke sniffed. "Whatever."
"I came back because....." Sylar stopped himself before he could lie. He couldn't start this with lies. "I came back to see if you wanted to come with me and live a normal life. If you want a normal life at all. No killing, no...crime. Just normal, you and me."
There was a long silence, which Sylar could certainly understand. He had come barrelling back into the kid's life and offered him, a seventeen year old for God's sake, a relationship. He watched Luke's lips start and stutter as he tried to form words. After what seemed like hours, he finally spoke.
"What do you mean, with you?"
Another long silence.
"I mean, with me, as my....Just...Whatever you want."
Luke shook his head and Sylar immediately understood. He was a teenager. He couldn't be allowed to have exactly what he wanted, it wouldn't be good for him. He stroked Luke's hair with the slightest touch by way of communicating his meaning. At this the boy sighed and stared at him. Sylar took his hand loosely and prayed for something to say. "I won't hurt you. I'll take care of you, I promise."
A second went by before Luke jumped into Sylar's arms, gripping him tightly and sobbing thick stuttering breaths as he garbled threats and promises. Don't leave me, never leave me again or I'll kill you, I'll kill myself, you'll regret it and so on until he was quiet and still in Sylar's unyielding embrace.
Beyond packing, catching a bus and finding some crappy motel Sylar had no idea what the plan was. All he could do was wait, he supposed. Wait for the future to happen. Luke leaned back, his face streaked with tears but still with a fierce countenance, one that Sylar could now imagine protecting his child. He rested their foreheads together, and smiled. "You won't believe what kind of day I've had. I've seen the future, five different ones. I've been cheated on, turned into a woman, fed viagra and tried to get money off someone with super strength who wanted to rip my lungs out."
Luke looked at him incredulously. "Ooookay. Anything better in the future? Robot butlers? Jetpacks?" He started to run his fingers over Sylar's face as if he couldn't believe he was really there.
"No. Just...donut makers and invisible toddlers. And you. I saw you."
Luke raised his eyebrows as he stroked Sylar's cheek. "Let me guess, jail? Supervillain jail, right?"
"No. You were....you had your own apartment, and you were married."
"Pfft. I'm never gonna get married. Marriage is for idiots who're so afraid of being alone they wanna drag someone down with them. Not me man."
Sylar smirked. "What, no perfect life with a loving husband and baby and a donut maker?"
"Husband? Two guys can't get married. Maybe in one of those fruity states like Florida, can they do it there?"
Laughing, Sylar hugged him. "So if I proposed to you right here you'd turn me down?"
Luke rubbed his cheek on Sylar's shoulder. "Yeah, because you'd be like a robot Sylar, or a weird guy in your body or something. If you did that I'd know it wasn't really you."
Sylar stood, letting Luke grip his waist with his legs, and laid him on the mussed up bed. As he kissed him softly the robe he was wearing loosened and Luke gasped at the burgeoning erection that was pressing into his leg. His shaking hands made their way beneath the robe and onto Sylar's back where his calloused fingers danced over the skin there. Sylar keened at the touch and ground his hips into Luke, deepening their kiss as he did so. Luke's fingers moved tantalisingly lower and edged towards his opening as Sylar fought to control himself. He thrust dryly at Luke's leg as the teenager finally teased his rough fingertips over the puckered flesh. "What...what do you wanna do?" He asked breathlessly.
"I don't know." Luke's eyes were closed and he looked peaceful and content for possibly the first time in his life. "I just wanna...be with you."
Not the time. Sylar told himself. Not for that, anyway. He reached for Luke's wrists and held them over the boy's head, kissing his throat. When he was reasonably sure that Luke wouldn't move he tugged his tshirt off and flung it to one side, continuing his kisses down over his collar bone and down the centre of his chest. He felt trembling fingers in his hair and along the back of his neck and paused. When Luke started to tug at his hair he continued downward, nipping at the skin by his happy trail and smiling faintly at the changes in Luke's breathing. He rolled onto his side to undo Luke's baggy blue jeans and tugged them down a little, palming his erection. "You don't wear underwear?" he murmured.
"Hmm?" Luke was really in no state to answer him, his head thrown back at the alien touch and his chest pumping. "I er.. didn't do the laundry."
Settling down between Luke's legs Sylar let his dry lips trace their way up Luke's cock. He kissed once, twice, then laved his tongue along the ridge and sucked him in dramatically, hollowing his cheeks and managing about three bobs of his head before Luke cried out and bucked into his mouth. He paused, then swallowed and took a breath, looking up at Luke from under thick black lashes and grinning at the look on his face which was half ecstasy and half defeat.
"Sorry, I guess I...was a little...." He sighed, giving up on coherent speech.
Sylar cuddled up to Luke, rubbing his cheek on his chest. "It's okay. We have all the time in the world."
Pairing : Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Luke, Sylar/Nathan, Sylar/Peter, Sylar/Matt
Word count : 10,323
Notes : For
heroes_bigboom
Summary : Kelly Noble has the power to create multiple universes, but when Sylar takes it it forces a catastrophic chain of events. His future self must now force him to choose one of the five universes he has unwittingly set into motion. Five worlds, five husbands, but which will he choose?
Previous
Husband #4 - Peter Petrelli
The new door was peeling, blue flecks of old paint still fluttering from it as he turned the key. Music was playing inside and Sylar somehow knew who it would be. Fate was just that deliciously twisted.
"Hey!" Peter yelled from the desk where he had his laptop open. "Did you eat?"
"No, did you?" Sylar glanced around the apartment. It was schizophrenic to say the least. You could tell which enclaves were Peter's and which were his. Just like at Luke's place there were stacks rather than shelves, and bits of paper, photos and momentos stuck to every flat surface like a living scrapbook.
"No, I forgot, you wanna get takeout?"
Sylar rolled his eyes, unseen. He just wanted to take hold of this annoying little bastard's skinny hips and fuck him until he screamed. Why did there have to be eating? How in God's name did he end up married to this idiot?
Warm, sure hands circled his waist and he relaxed somewhat as Peter's attention came to him. "Hey, I'm sorry. Why don't you go have a lie down and I'll cook, okay?"
A lie down did sound good. Sylar turned and pulled Peter by the hand, hoping he could find the bedroom. "Come with me, come help me relax." He dragged him off, luckily finding the bedroom door wide open with one half of the room neat and pristine and one littered with the remnants of a weekend away. He flopped down on the bed and sighed as Peter pulled off his shoes for him and lay on his side, watching him intently. As Sylar closed his eyes Peter languidly stroked his hair with one hand and rested the other on his chest. He pecked him on the cheek and whispered his love, his eyelashes leaving little butterfly kisses in their wake.
Sylar breathed deeply. The attention was certainly gratifying. Peter was touching his face ever so gently, occasionally dropping a kiss and sighing contentedly. "You feel tense Gabriel, you want a massage?"
Wordlessly Sylar sat up, pulling off his shirt and lying on his stomach. Gabriel. Of course Peter could never fuck Sylar, but a name change was all it took for him to open up. He moaned at firm, professional fingers on his aching muscles. He had never had a massage in his life, but he imagined this would be a pretty top notch one. Peter was a nurse after all, he knew physiology. He was responsive to Sylar's shifts and moans, kneading and unknotting until Sylar thought he might unravel completely.
He felt a little ashamed to be so turned on by this, after all it was what Peter did to old people. But every time those firm thumbs pressed into a hitherto untouched part of his aching flesh he felt a little sinful moan escape and heat grow across his groin.
"I want you to know I don't touch my patients like this. This is all for you." Peter lay flat over him, kissing his neck gently. "I missed you while I was away. I missed you so much."
Sylar hummed, letting his eyes flutter open momentarily. Peter was such a slob. His dirty clothes from his trip were still all over the bed. He reached out to knock the crumpled polo shirt from the bed and jolted as a quick-fire slide show rattled through his brain. Peter, on all fours, being fucked roughly. Peter on his knees, panting and begging. Peter bent over a dresser screaming and moaning in a way Sylar had never heard before. He was yelping, almost sobbing and shouting...."Nathan."
Peter stopped abruptly. "What?"
Sylar heaved himself up and turned over, rage burning in his eyes. "Nathan! You fucked him!"
"No! What are you talking about, I never fucked him." Peter was a terrible liar. His face immediately began to colour and he started to pull at his shirt hem. Sylar shivered with every untruth that passed the man's lips.
"Why would you lie to me when you know..." Wait. "You know I can tell, right? You know you can't lie to me."
Peter's bottom lip began to quiver. "I promised you I wouldn't and I...I didn't. Martha's Vineyard was the last time, I swear."
"Stop LYING!" Sylar grabbed the polo shirt and gripped it, letting the memories flow through him. "He fucked you over a dresser at the lake house. He bruised your hips on it. Let me see. If there's no bruises I'm crazy right?"
Peter swallowed, frozen to the spot. "I..."
Sylar stalked over to him, roughly grabbing his pants and pulled them down as Peter struggled ineffectually. There, on his skinny hip bones, were two lilac bruises. Sylar took his hands from Peter and backed away. He felt an unexpected disappointment, and remembered his sham marriage to Nathan. He wasn't good enough. Again. He sat on their bed and dropped the shirt like it might bite him. "Am I a bad husband?" he muttered.
"No. You're good to me. You give me everything I need, this is my fault. I'm the one who's to blame."
At least this makes the decision easier. Sylar thought. He could count Peter and Nathan out of his equation. They were welcome to each other. "You two...You're poison. You can't be together because you know how wrong it is but instead of just accepting it you drag other people into your mess. You ruin my life, just because you don't have any self-control."
"I know that! I know it!" Peter was yelling now, hot tears running down his cheeks. "It's not like you're perfect, I mean you could have laid down the law when you found out the first time but no, you have to be all forgiving and saintly because you're Gabriel now! You're not Sylar!"
"You want Sylar?" Sylar stood and pinned Peter to the wall with a flick of his fingers. "I'll give you Sylar you weak little bastard." He spun Peter, holding him against the wall and ripping at his jeans. "Is this what you want? Pain? Humiliation? You let him do things to you that you make me feel ashamed of wanting." He pressed his erection against Peter's ass and felt his own tears run down his cheeks. He was about to kick Peter's legs apart when he caught his reflection in their bedroom mirror. Peter was afraid, and in pain, and he was causing it. And it felt so good that he knew he had to stop, or kill him.
Flinging Peter to the floor, Sylar wiped his eyes and marched out of the bedroom. "Pack your things and get out," he spat, as the white light enveloped him.
Husband #5 - Matt Parkman
Picket fence. Dear God, these actually existed.
Sylar glanced over the house in front of him and saw that the door was open. Where did he live? Mayberry? He sighed, jogging up the steps and bracing himself.
The scent of cinnamon hit him as he crossed the threshold. The place was like a show house and Sylar felt immediately uncomfortable. In what kind of universe had he selected those drapes? "Hello?" he called.
"Oh you're back." Parkman's voice rattled out of a nearby doorway. "Took your time, we open in an hour and you know people will pay not attention to the ad and show up in like, five minutes." He walked into the reception room holding a dustbuster. "Are you changing?"
Sylar looked down at his jeans and sweatshirt. "What for?"
"What for? Because if we're ever gonna sell this place we need to come across as the perfectly groomed gay couple who took care of their house and didn't dress like they just came from a bar. I laid out some stuff for you in the bedroom, go on."
Parkman turned away from him as if there would be no further discussion and Sylar felt more like a family dog or a child than his husband. "Wait a minute, I..."
"I don't have time for your bullshit, okay? Can you please just do as I ask once in your damn life? I want out of this place, and you're not gonna ruin it for me, now go get dressed!" Parkman marched into the kitchen and the irritating buzz of the dustbuster started up. Sylar clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. He would put up with this until the universe decided he could get the hell out.
In their bedroom there were clothes laid out, just as Parkman said. Beige slacks, a blue shirt and a white sweater. Sylar looked around at the photos on the wall and saw that, yes his worst nightmare had come true and he was dressing like a J-Crew catalogue. In none of the photos was he smiling. The look on his face was one of resignation.
"Hey..." Parkman appeared in the doorway looking shamefaced before creeping towards him and taking him in a hug. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just..."
Sylar let his hand stroke up Parkman's back and held him loosely. "I know."
Rubbing their stubbled cheeks together, Parkman sighed. "It'll all be so good once we move. They say it's one of the most stressful things you can do, right? Amen to that."
Forcing a smile, Sylar looked Parkman in the eyes. "I know I can be...difficult sometimes. I know you must get tempted to just use your ability and force me, and I'm grateful that you don't."
"What?" Parkman looked genuinely shocked. "Sweetie I would never...You don't have to be grateful that I don't use my ability on you. I would never do that."
The tingle came and Sylar' lip involuntarily wobbled. He was so sick of being lied to and used and not good enough. Not good enough for Parkman to have his own free will. Not good enough to be himself. "Sure, I know. I'm gonna get changed." He extricated himself and felt Parkman tap him on the backside before he left and started up the dustbuster again.
Sylar opened the bedside drawer and confirmed his own suspicions. Viagra, Jesus. He didn't know how he knew, it may have been residual memory from the other universe, but with Mohinder that made two people he couldn't get it up for. He picked up the packet of blue pills and saw that there were none missing. Maybe Parkman didn't even wanna try. Maybe they were Parkman’s and not his.
"You can throw them away again but you know you'll be digging through the trash later."
Sylar jumped as Parkman approached him. He hadn't even realised the dustbuster had stopped. "I er...I was just..thinking."
Parkman squeezed his shoulder. "Hey...one day you won't need it. I know it. We just need to...work on things."
Sylar stomach flipped. "I won't need it?"
"Sure, one day you'll...get over it." Parkman petted his hair like he was a particularly dumb pet and wandered off again. "We have about twenty minutes before they start showing up." He called back.
Shit. So he was the one who was dead from the waist down. Not that he was shocked, he couldn't find himself attracted to Parkman. Why the hell was he in this nightmare? He threw the pills back into the drawer and slammed it shut. Sitting heavily on the bed he touched the clothing that Parkman had laid out and let the memories flood through him. After a minute or so he stopped, and collapsed into sobs. It was all there, the abuse and the wearing down. The threats and mindfucks. They were buried beneath a layer of picnics on the beach and drives up to Rhode Island to watch the leaves turn. Matt had been fucking with his mind, replacing what he didn't want seen with Hallmark memories and a healthy dose of self-loathing.
Sylar dried his eyes and set his jaw. "I'm ready. Get me out of here, I'm ready to choose."
Epilogue
Sylar looked into his own eyes as his future self appeared.
"Times up anyway, lover boy. Decision time."
Mohinder, he thought. He wanted Mohinder, wanted to go back and fight for him, prove that they could work. The words just weren't coming out of his mouth. Nathan didn't love him, Peter was conflicted and cheating on him. Matt was the suburban nightmare that Sylar had lived in for much too long as a young man, and Luke and the baby? Luke and the baby seemed the most unreal of all of the scenarios. Luke had been happy. With him! The baby was normal, they were a normal family. How could that be real? How could it be true?
"I know what you're thinking." Future Sylar said. "I will always know what you're thinking. You have to say it to me. You have to choose."
"How can I choose? I choose none of them, I choose to be alone." When his other self didn't speak he felt the silence weigh heavily on his ears and had to fill it. "I can't be a father and a husband, I can't be that selfless, I can't keep my promises.I can't be good!"
"Not a good boy - not exactly. Something else, something more, like... Like you. Home, family, but not afraid to do the job I have to do." His future self repeated his own words back to him, the words he had spoken to Noah Bennet after he had lost his powers.
"Well maybe I can't have what I want!" Sylar screamed. "Maybe I don’t deserve what I...." He stopped himself, as a memory came to him that wasn't a memory. The whiteness faded and he found himself in the living room he shared with Luke. He was alone, and he felt it desperately. Around him the apartment was quiet. There were still toys scattered around but they were not baby toys, they were children's toys. He jumped as the door opened and Luke came through it, leading a small boy of about five by the hand.
"Hi Daddy!" The little one ran to him, leaping up onto his knee and squeezing him.
"Hey..." Sylar looked at Luke, who looked away. "Jamie, go and play in your room for a minute okay? I need to talk to Daddy."
The boy jumped down obediently and jogged off as Luke looked round at them. "Not the paints though Jamie, okay? Clean toys." He sat by Sylar and raised his eyebrows. "So, what's up?"
"Good day?" Sylar sat back and threw his arm over the back of the couch.
"Yeah, fine. Same as always." Luke swallowed and sat back too, still not looking at him.
He was lying, Sylar knew. But he didn't know. There was no shiver. He just felt it in other ways. "Are you telling me the truth?"
The pause was all he needed. He pulled Luke to him, kissing his cheek. "You can tell me, I'm your husband. I'm his father."
Luke's shoulders dropped. "He manifested. After everything, he still...He's like we were. What if he ends up like us? Do you remember the old us?"
Sylar let his head rest on Luke's shoulder. "Can we do anything?"
Luke shook his head. "He can have the same drugs as us but what happens if he finds out? What if he finds out and wants his ability? What happens after we're both dead?"
"Dead?" The realisation hit Sylar like a freight train. Out of Luke's sight he twitched his finger towards one of Jamie's toy cars, left on the floor. Nothing. He tried for a bolt of electricity. Gone.
"One day we won't be able to force him, and he's a kid, imagine saying to a kid 'Oh hey, you have super powers, just have these painful injections every three months and you'll never be able to use them'."
Sylar laughed a little despite himself and relaxed when Luke started to giggle too. Soon they were doubled over with tears in their eyes.
Luke gasped for air as he sat back on the couch. "This isn't funny. It's not."
"I know. I know, I just...Do you not think that we can handle this? I think maybe only we can."
Nodding, Luke curled into him. "You're probably right. And it's not like he can microwave people or take people's abilities, it's just invisibility."
"Then we just have to make sure we know where he is when we start doing it, no problem."
Luke smiled and sighed. "No problem."
Sylar blinked and the scene was gone. "I gave up my abilities for them. I gave up immortality."
His future self nodded. "So make your decision. Choose which life you want to lead."
The decision was simple. Since Chandra Suresh had walked into his shop and told him that he could be special, that he could have abilities and powers which would set him apart, he had craved it. The only other thing he had craved as much had been Chandra's son.
"I choose Luke." He heard himself say. "I choose to stop being selfish. They need me. That family isn't complete without me, I don't know what will happen to Luke, or that child if I'm not with them. I choose them."
As he uttered the words he found himself staring at Kelly Noble. She was slight, she looked like she needed a good dose of sunshine, and she was shaking like a leaf. He lowered his hand, and walked out of the house without a backward glance. When he got a block down the street he tutted at himself for not grabbing a yellow pages before he left the house. He needed to find a way to get some money and get to New Jersey without powers and he couldn't for the life of him make his brain think that that was an option. At least he was only in New York, it could be worse. He looked around him and spied a bus station. Digging in his pockets he turned up nothing. He had a feeling that this was going to prove impossible. Just then he saw a billboard he recognised for some reason, it was shabby and a patchwork of different old ads that had been torn in layers. "Mohinder."
Running towards the billboard he started to get his bearings, he was close to Isaac's loft, and that meant that he was close to Suresh. It took him twenty minutes but to his relief he was right. He ran up the stairs to the loft and stopped right outside the door. Mohinder would probably attack him, and that meant healing, but that was pretty involuntary. He wouldn't fight back, that would be his concession. He knocked firmly and moved away from the spyhole in case Mohinder saw him. As the door opened gingerly he used all his strength to hold it open while he stepped inside. Sure enough he felt a tremendous force knock him through the air and shielded his face as he smashed into a wall.
"Mohinder stop! Please, I'm not here to hurt you." He looked up and saw Mohinder hesitate as he stood over him. "Please believe me, I just need your help, and then I will never bother you again."
"My help?! You are unbelievable! I killed you once and I can do it again." He faltered as soon as the words left his lips and he saw Sylar was still cowering, not fighting back. He studied him suspiciously. "Do you have your powers?"
"I do, but I'm not using them, I won't use them. That's why I need help."
"Why won't you? Why should I believe a word you say?"
Sylar sighed. "I don't know, but please, I only need enough money to get me to New Jersey. That's it."
"Money?" Mohinder spat. "You want money? You're a cold blooded psychopath, why do you need money?"
"I'm not using my abilities and I need to get to New Jersey to help someone. Please! I know this sounds strange." Sylar shook his head. He must have been crazy thinking that this would work.
After staring at him for a long time, Mohinder backed away, and reached into his back pocket. He flung a black leather wallet at Sylar's feet. "You can take what's in there. And then get out of here with your hands where I can see them."
Sylar pulled out the money, which looked like a few hundred dollars. He was about to say he didn't need it all but thought that on reflection he should probably take it. The last thing he needed to be doing was begging from more of his previous victims. They weren't all as nuts as Mohinder. "Thank you." He left the wallet, stuffed the money in his back pocket and held his hands in the air. Walking backwards he finally made it out of the apartment, and ran in the direction of the bus station before Mohinder changed his mind.
***
Stepping off the bus, Sylar felt a little embarrassed. He had had no idea that the journey was only thirteen miles. He probably could have walked it. That was what abilities did, he told himself, they separated you from reality. Why walk for thirteen miles when you can steal a car and kill the owner, or turn a rock into gold and pawn it to pay for a private plane? Why not just fly without the plane? He wasn't far from Luke's house, but he still had no idea what he could say to him. I've seen the future and we get married? What kind of idiotic thing was that to say? He still hadn't thought of anything when he saw his Dad's old place and a few doors down from it, Luke's.
It was growing dark and the lights were on in the living room. A patch of very dead grass on the lawn told him that Luke had been here recently, if he wasn't still around. Walking purposely towards the house, Sylar started to shake. His husband. He hadn't even started to think how he felt about Luke. Maybe the weird mix of protectiveness and irritation with a slight hint of pride would turn into love after a few years together. He knocked on the door and listened. A few footsteps, a pause, and then the door swung open.
Luke's face was a picture. For possibly the first time in his life, he was speechless. He started to try and speak a few times but was frozen to the spot.
"Can I come in?"
When the boy stepped back to let him enter, Sylar felt it was out of instinct, not choice. His brain was so busy dealing with Sylar's presence that he couldn't make other thoughts stick in his head. He edged in and shut the door behind him, looking into Luke's eyes. "Is your mother home?"
The boy shook his head, and then, Sylar thought he saw a flash of something in his eyes. Was this the 'is he here to kill me?' thought that so many people had when they saw him? "Good, I only want to talk. I'm not here to hurt you."
Anger spread across Luke's face and he stretched out his hand, burning Sylar where he stood. Sylar screamed, the pain unbearable as his skin bubbled and smoked. Darkness came to him and the smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils before he passed out.
***
Blinking awake, Sylar tensed to fend off another attack but none came. He painfully craned his neck, and saw Luke sitting in an armchair, sobbing. As he struggled to stand, his clothes fell off his body and he stood naked. He paused, watching for Luke's reaction. He just sat staring until Sylar lost patience and gave him an imploring look. "Well, do you have a robe or something?"
Luke made a noise that was half laugh half sniffle and he jumped to his feet, heading for the stairs. After he had jogged up a few he turned and beckoned Sylar after him. Luke's room was so him that Sylar probably could have drawn it before he got there. The curtains were closed, probably permanently, and the place was littered with clothes, shoes, books and various crap. Luke shut the door behind Sylar and handed him a dark blue towelling robe after letting his eyes run over his body. Sylar smiled. "You know, that's a very effective way to get someone naked, but they may not want to sleep with you afterwards."
"What do you want?" Luke murmured as he sat on his unmade bed. Sylar joined him, keeping a little distance between them.
"I was about to ask you the same question. I'm back. What do you want me to do?"
"You're back? It's been almost a year!" Luke spat. "You leave me alone and then after ten months and two weeks you come back and..." Luke faltered and realised what he'd just said. "I wasn't counting, I just...I just know."
"I'm sorry I left you, but I didn't want to bring you into my fight with my father."
Luke sniffed. "Whatever."
"I came back because....." Sylar stopped himself before he could lie. He couldn't start this with lies. "I came back to see if you wanted to come with me and live a normal life. If you want a normal life at all. No killing, no...crime. Just normal, you and me."
There was a long silence, which Sylar could certainly understand. He had come barrelling back into the kid's life and offered him, a seventeen year old for God's sake, a relationship. He watched Luke's lips start and stutter as he tried to form words. After what seemed like hours, he finally spoke.
"What do you mean, with you?"
Another long silence.
"I mean, with me, as my....Just...Whatever you want."
Luke shook his head and Sylar immediately understood. He was a teenager. He couldn't be allowed to have exactly what he wanted, it wouldn't be good for him. He stroked Luke's hair with the slightest touch by way of communicating his meaning. At this the boy sighed and stared at him. Sylar took his hand loosely and prayed for something to say. "I won't hurt you. I'll take care of you, I promise."
A second went by before Luke jumped into Sylar's arms, gripping him tightly and sobbing thick stuttering breaths as he garbled threats and promises. Don't leave me, never leave me again or I'll kill you, I'll kill myself, you'll regret it and so on until he was quiet and still in Sylar's unyielding embrace.
Beyond packing, catching a bus and finding some crappy motel Sylar had no idea what the plan was. All he could do was wait, he supposed. Wait for the future to happen. Luke leaned back, his face streaked with tears but still with a fierce countenance, one that Sylar could now imagine protecting his child. He rested their foreheads together, and smiled. "You won't believe what kind of day I've had. I've seen the future, five different ones. I've been cheated on, turned into a woman, fed viagra and tried to get money off someone with super strength who wanted to rip my lungs out."
Luke looked at him incredulously. "Ooookay. Anything better in the future? Robot butlers? Jetpacks?" He started to run his fingers over Sylar's face as if he couldn't believe he was really there.
"No. Just...donut makers and invisible toddlers. And you. I saw you."
Luke raised his eyebrows as he stroked Sylar's cheek. "Let me guess, jail? Supervillain jail, right?"
"No. You were....you had your own apartment, and you were married."
"Pfft. I'm never gonna get married. Marriage is for idiots who're so afraid of being alone they wanna drag someone down with them. Not me man."
Sylar smirked. "What, no perfect life with a loving husband and baby and a donut maker?"
"Husband? Two guys can't get married. Maybe in one of those fruity states like Florida, can they do it there?"
Laughing, Sylar hugged him. "So if I proposed to you right here you'd turn me down?"
Luke rubbed his cheek on Sylar's shoulder. "Yeah, because you'd be like a robot Sylar, or a weird guy in your body or something. If you did that I'd know it wasn't really you."
Sylar stood, letting Luke grip his waist with his legs, and laid him on the mussed up bed. As he kissed him softly the robe he was wearing loosened and Luke gasped at the burgeoning erection that was pressing into his leg. His shaking hands made their way beneath the robe and onto Sylar's back where his calloused fingers danced over the skin there. Sylar keened at the touch and ground his hips into Luke, deepening their kiss as he did so. Luke's fingers moved tantalisingly lower and edged towards his opening as Sylar fought to control himself. He thrust dryly at Luke's leg as the teenager finally teased his rough fingertips over the puckered flesh. "What...what do you wanna do?" He asked breathlessly.
"I don't know." Luke's eyes were closed and he looked peaceful and content for possibly the first time in his life. "I just wanna...be with you."
Not the time. Sylar told himself. Not for that, anyway. He reached for Luke's wrists and held them over the boy's head, kissing his throat. When he was reasonably sure that Luke wouldn't move he tugged his tshirt off and flung it to one side, continuing his kisses down over his collar bone and down the centre of his chest. He felt trembling fingers in his hair and along the back of his neck and paused. When Luke started to tug at his hair he continued downward, nipping at the skin by his happy trail and smiling faintly at the changes in Luke's breathing. He rolled onto his side to undo Luke's baggy blue jeans and tugged them down a little, palming his erection. "You don't wear underwear?" he murmured.
"Hmm?" Luke was really in no state to answer him, his head thrown back at the alien touch and his chest pumping. "I er.. didn't do the laundry."
Settling down between Luke's legs Sylar let his dry lips trace their way up Luke's cock. He kissed once, twice, then laved his tongue along the ridge and sucked him in dramatically, hollowing his cheeks and managing about three bobs of his head before Luke cried out and bucked into his mouth. He paused, then swallowed and took a breath, looking up at Luke from under thick black lashes and grinning at the look on his face which was half ecstasy and half defeat.
"Sorry, I guess I...was a little...." He sighed, giving up on coherent speech.
Sylar cuddled up to Luke, rubbing his cheek on his chest. "It's okay. We have all the time in the world."